A Domestic Tragedy. R.W. Service

Robert W. Service

     A Domestic Tragedy

Clorinda met me on the way

As I came from the train;

Her face was anything but gay,

In fact, suggested pain.

‘Oh hubby, hubby dear!’ she cried,

‘I’ve awful news to tell. . . .’

‘What is it, darling?’ I replied;

‘Your mother - is she well?’

 ‘Oh no! oh no! it is not that,

It’s something else,’ she wailed,

My heart was beating pit-a-pat,

My ruddy visage paled.

Like lightning flash in heaven’s dome

The fear within me woke:

‘Don’t say,’ I cried, ‘our little home

Has all gone up in smoke!’

 She shook her head.  Oh, swift I clasped

And held her to my breast;

‘The children!  Tell me quick,’ I gasped,

‘Believe me, it is best.’

Then, then she spoke; ‘mid sobs I caught

These words of woe divine:

‘It’s coo-coo-cook has gone and bought

A new hat just like mine.'

_________________

Heaven’s dome – небосвод (поэт.)

pit-a-pat [ˌpitə’pæt] -  учащенно, трепеща